


old shoots, new leaves

by halloaloe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Established Relationship, Getting Back Together, M/M, New Year's Kiss, New Years, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halloaloe/pseuds/halloaloe
Summary: Tsukishima and Yamaguchi break up. Unfortunately, they still have to attend Hinata’s New Years Party, one town over.  It’s just one night, and then they can go their separate ways.Or, a story about new endings and old beginnings.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 25
Kudos: 174





	old shoots, new leaves

**Author's Note:**

> happy new years, everybody! i was feeling a little bit sad but a little bit hopeful last night, and then i woke up and wrote all of this in about five hours, so.. here it is!

* * *

☾☆

It starts with a breakup.

The final straw is when Kei comes home and, even before he manages to unlace his boots, starts sneezing uncontrollably in the foyer.

“ _Tadashi_ ,” he had yelled, “You were petting the stray cats again, weren’t you?”

And Tadashi had poked his head out of their shared bedroom and pouted, “But I vacuumed and lint-rolled.”

“You clearly — _ah, ah_ — didn’t.”

“I did!”

“Well, you didn’t do it thoroughly enough,” Kei had spit, fumbling into the kitchen and grasping desperately for a tissue. His eyes are runny and he’s had a long day at work before this and he’s not in the mood to hear Tadashi _lie_ to him.

And Tadashi had just stood there, face warming underneath his freckles into a furious, angry red.

Kei had clenched his fists at his side and said —

Actually, no.

Maybe it had started earlier, when Kei had left his dirty jersey out on the couch again and Tadashi had come home after a long day at work and saw that it wasn’t in the laundry basket like he had asked for.

And then Kei had shot back, maybe if you would wipe down the counter well enough after cooking so that _I_ don’t have to clean up every time I make us breakfast, maybe then I’d have _time_ to pick up my laundry, and Tadashi had said you don’t _have_ to make us breakfast then, then I’ll stop making dinner, you get home earlier than I do anyway, and Kei’s only response was to point out how it's Tadashi who always hogs the covers in bed and maybe he needs the extra time after work for a powernap since he barely gets any at night, and —

And it turns out that’s the wrong thing to say because Tadashi’s screeching, he’s furious, about how _dare_ Kei insinuates _he’s_ the reason they never get enough sleep on work nights and _not_ Kei’s superhuman overactive professional-athlete libido, and it just blows something inside of Kei, how Tadashi had never complained about it, he’d enjoyed it even, until it was time for an argument and he could throw it in Kei’s face instead of just bringing it up normally like a mature human being if he had _actually_ had a problem with it, and then maybe they could have a productive conversation for once instead of these explosions that _used_ to occur once every two, three years and then it was every few months and they’re coming quicker and quicker —

Actually, no.

Maybe it had started even earlier. Before they’d celebrated six years of dating, before they’d moved in together, before they’d graduated from college, before they’d graduated from high school, before they’d shared so many firsts together —

Maybe it had started when Tadashi had finally confessed to him. On White Day. Cherry blossom season had come early that year, and Kei had kissed him under the Sakura tree, and tucked flower petals behind his ear. There was pink in Tadashi’s hair and on his cheeks. Kei had held him in his arms and wanted them to stay like that forever. 

Maybe it was when Kei realized, at eight years old, that Tadashi was the first kid he’d wanted to share his dinosaur nuggets with, and then eight years later, realized Tadashi would be the only one ever.

But it doesn’t matter when it starts.

Here’s how it ends.

Over the rushing of blood in his ears, Kei can hear his own voice — he’s angry, why does he sound _so_ angry, he never sounds like this, his anger has always been quiet and cold and calculating and icy, maybe it's Tadashi's influence, as unfair as it is that he has always had such an influence on him — saying things he wishes desperately and so immediately to take back as soon as they leave his lips.

Tadashi is crying, in the kitchen. He’s trying to hide it. He pushes the palms of his hands into his eye sockets and Kei wants to pry them away. He doesn't.

Kei clenches his fists at his side and says —

“Maybe we should break up.”

Kei thinks then that if Tadashi had said no, nuh uh, no way, he would have gladly taken it back. No, Tadashi, I don’t mean it, never ever, I’m a hopelessly emotionally constipated wreck of a human being and you’re the only one who can read me. If Tadashi had fought back, fought _for him_ , he would have thrown all of his words away.

Instead Tadashi, with red in his eyes and anguish written all over his beautiful, kind, open face, says, “Okay.”

Kei opens his mouth and wants to say something, he’s not sure what yet, and Tadashi cuts him off.

“Just — just not now, okay? I can’t do this now. Just.. leave it. Because we have a trip tomorrow.”

And shit — yeah, they do. They do have a trip tomorrow, vacation days already taken off at work and hotel room already booked. They’re driving over to see Hinata and their old friends, one town over, and they’re going to ring in the new year together.

“Let’s just.. it’s only two days,” Tadashi sucks in a sharp, shuddering breath, composing himself even as Kei’s world crumples underneath him. He’s holding back a fresh wave of tears.

Kei is teetering on a tightrope and there’s nothing around him, nothing but void. Tadashi snaps the tightrope and it falls into the chasm, but Kei doesn’t, he’s still suspended somehow, over nothing, under nothing, nothing on all sides. Floating, drifting.

“We’re broken up,” Kei says, a stinging note of disbelief in his tone. It’s like he’s a third party observer, watching someone else’s life like those K-Dramas Tadashi rambles on so much about, unable to do anything but scream from another higher dimension.

“We’re broken up.” Tadashi says.

* * *

☾☆

Kei sleeps on the couch that night. He wakes up cold, and when he does, Tadashi’s already left for work that day. Some days there are scrambled eggs simmering on low heat waiting for him. Today there aren’t.

Mechanically, he goes through the motions that day at practice and then at work. Kei’s at least grateful for his past self for insisting they pack early, so that when Tadashi shows up in their secondhand Prius with their bags in the backseat, he can climb into the passenger seat without resistance.

Tadashi seems nervous, and while he isn’t sniffling, the veins in his eyes seem redder. Kei says nothing.

“H — how was your day, Tsukki?” Tadashi offers him an olive branch. A dead one, with all the love sucked out of it, but an olive branch nevertheless.

“S’fine.” Kei says. This is usually the part where he would ramble on about something at work, and spin up a funny story out of whatever nightmare the kids gave him that day, and then Tadashi would laugh and Kei would ask about _his_ day.

Instead he fishes his headphones out of his messenger bag and slips them over his ears. Tadashi doesn’t even bat an eye. Distantly, Kei realizes he’s been doing this a lot more lately. What happened to the times when he couldn’t get enough of Tadashi’s voice, those days walking home from school when they’d see each other every day and he still would want more?

He had already curated a new road trip playlist. Kei chooses not to share.

It bites him in the ass _very_ shortly after, anyway, because all the songs on the playlist remind him of them. Because of course they do. Kei keeps his eyes on the window and watches as city streets feed into the interstate feed into quiet mountain roads.

A few hours in, the gas tank runs low. They slide into a service station and Kei hops out of the car. He lets Tadashi deal with filling up the tank.

When Tadashi climbs back inside the car, Kei has his favorite gas station snacks (Shrimp crackers, Hello Panda), and a cup of coffee (two creams, two sugars) waiting for him.

His fingers curl around the cup. Kei pretends to be interested in the elderly man in front of them looking for his wallet, unaware he has it balanced on the hood of his car.

“Two creams, two sugars,” Tadashi says, weakly. _You remember_.

Of course Kei remembers. He had never forgotten. But lately he hasn’t been making or buying Tadashi coffee, too busy with his own work, out the door without so much as a rushed goodbye in the mornings. Kei wonders if Tadashi thought it was because he no longer knew his order.

The next quarter of the drive is still quiet, but a little less awkward than before. Kei puts his headphones away because all of his downloaded songs stab into his heart like a rhythm game you play with knives. Tadashi’s been driving for a few hours now, and Kei can catch the telltale signs that he’s slipping. Four hours of driving through monotonous country roads is a lot for anyone. It’s certainly too much for an overworked salaryman at the peak of his time in the rat race.

“I can take over,” Kei says, the first thing he’s said in hours, the second thing he’s said to Tadashi all day.

Tadashi flashes him a grateful smile and flicks on the turn signal so he can pull over. “S — sure, Tsukki.”

Kei doesn’t like to drive — rather, he thinks Tadashi is better at it. Tadashi’s calmer and great with spatial directions. Kei gets more upset than he should when somebody cuts him off. Tadashi had once told him, quite patiently, how road rage was an unattractive trait. Still, it had been hard to kick the habit. Kei wonders now how much he had really tried.

But during their third year, he’d been the first person out of everybody in Karasuno VBC to get their license. Akiteru had taught him early, one week over the holidays.

They had begged and begged him to drive them around on a road trip to the beach — just the five of them, the third years. The only thing that kept him sane, Kei’s pretty sure, was Tadashi in the front seat giving him directions and putting a soothing hand on Kei’s knee when somebody were to honk unjustly.

Apparently, Tadashi is thinking of the same memory.

“Do you remember our senior year road trip?” He’s grinning, Kei can tell, even as he looks out the window. The pattern of his freckles are higher on his cheeks like where they stretch when he smiles. “Right after graduation? We made Kageyama sit up front so he and Hinata wouldn’t get into a fight in the back.”

“Of course,” Kei exhales, more amused than he sounds. “He was a shit navigator. He kept trying to read the map sidways.”

Tadashi giggles at that, “And Hinata got carsick sitting in the back.”

“And Yachi got scared that we would leave her at the gas station for some reason.”

“And _you_ didn’t have enough to pay for a full tank of gas and overdrafted your first debit card.”

Kei groans. “Don’t remind me.”

He smiles at the memory anyway. Tadashi had bailed them all out at that time, with cash he always had on hand for emergencies. Kei tries to think about a future without Tadashi covering for his mistakes, helping to prevent them. A new year without Tadashi.

He can’t.

“We’ll always be friends,” Kei says, and then to cover his bare-naked heart, “All of us. I mean.”

Tadashi looks at him for a long, long second, before he goes back to staring out the window. “Yeah,” he says, “Friends.”

* * *

☾☆

The party is already in full swing by the time they pull up, cars lined up along the driveway and side-street and bodies spilling out of the front door, on the porch, in the yard.

“ _Tsukishima! Yamaguchi!”_ comes Hinata’s exuberant voice, pulling them out of their car as soon as Kei parks. “Just in time! We’re about to play a game, just like the old days!”

Kei groans, because half of the people here must be professional volleyball players, which really doesn’t seem to be fair to the people who aren’t.

Still, Tadashi’s eyes flicker in between them, and when he licks nervously at his bottom lip as he does, Kei recognizes the silent plea and nods. “Fine. But Yamaguchi’s on my team.”

It ends up not being too bad of a match, all in all. Hinata makes sure the teams are evenly split between pros and amateurs and they’re rotated fairly on and off the court with no complaint.

Tadashi still has his wicked jump floater; Nishinoya points it out and screams — _That one’s mine!_ — before he steps up too far and flubs the overhand pass, the long break from volleyball and alcohol clearly throwing off their former champion libero’s balance. He falls on his butt and takes it graciously, anyway, laughter infectious and loud.

“Nice serve,” Kei mutters as the team swarms Tadashi, Tanaka ruffling his now-short hair and Kuroo clapping him soundly on the back. _Missed ya, Freckles!_

After a few rounds, Tadashi’s rotated off the court, and Kei can hear him strike up a conversation with Shimizu and Tanaka. They’re talking about babies on the way. Did Tadashi want kids? Had Tadashi always wanted kids?

Kei thinks about a date to the park, when Tadashi had pointed out a toddler wading into the lake and throwing bread to the ducks.

 _How cute!_ Tadashi had said. _Kids are so precious, you know?_

And Kei had just mumbled something about bread being awful for ducks, no nutritional value at all, and Tadashi had laughed and didn’t bring it up again.

Even though most of the pro players are clearly messing around that night, reflexes slowed by alcohol, separating Kageyama and Hinata turns out to have been a mistake. The two of them slowly shrink into their own little world, over-competitive, until it might as well just be a one-on-one duel. All the tosses go to Hinata; Kageyama seems to grow taller to fill the whole court, everywhere all at once.

Kei groans when they jump each other after the game, Hinata ducking under the net to snake his arms around Kageyama’s neck. There’s cheering and wolf-whistling. It’s just the two of them, faces pressed together. Kageyama pulls Hinata into his arms and Hinata twirls them around the yard until they lose their balance and come crashing down onto the grass. It’s frighteningly, terrifyingly sweet.

Tadashi has an unreadable expression on his face when Kei looks over. His gaze is focused on the same scene. Kei wonders if he’s thinking of the same memory, back when they were third years and newly together, so excited to finally let it out and hold each other after games.

“All right, everybody,” Sawamura steps up and begins ushering everybody inside. Probably to give the two of them privacy. “Suga’s been practicing mixing cocktails!”

It turns out Suga _has_ been practicing, apparently. Kei’s faintly impressed. He takes the Kahlúa milk cocktail to sip on and recedes into the dimmest corner of Hinata’s nice kitchen. Tadashi throws himself into getting drunk more animatedly than he does, taking shots with Yachi in the dining room and then sipping on wine as he chats up Sawamura and Suga on the porch.

While there are a few familiar faces, there are so many people here that Kei doesn’t know. It gives him a headache. He backs up against the counter and angles himself so he has a full view of the party; a defense mechanism. Just so that nobody can sneak up on him and try to make conversation without him noticing.

He can hear a lot of _Wow! No way!_ and _Congrats!_ coming from Tadashi. Idly he wonders what new life milestone Daichi and Suga have just hit. Marriage, perhaps? Planning for kids?

With a pang, Kei wonders how many he could have had with Tadashi. He downs a quarter of his glass at once.

There’s a shuffling at his side. Kei tilts his gaze to see Kozume. He’s a billionaire, now, his memory supplies, but it’s still just Kozume Kenma standing there in raggedy gray sweatpants and a tattered ponytail.

“Where’s Kuroo,” Kei asks.

“Backyard.” Kozume drones, and pulls out his phone. “Bokuto is doing a keg stand. Kuroo is egging him on.”

Kei snorts. “Akaashi?”

“Supervising.”

That gets a laugh out of him, and out of the corner of his eye, Kozume grins, too.

“Relax,” he says eventually. There’s sound effects coming from his phone. “I’m not here to make conversation. But if we stand around together people might think we are and they’ll leave us alone.”

This is a fair point. Kei accepts his logic and leans back against the kitchen cabinets and enjoys his peace and quiet while he can. Kozume beats a boss monster — a giant, frozen plant — and there are tiny little _pings!_ every time he picks up some loot. It’s bright and disorienting. It takes his mind off of green hair and freckles, if only temporarily, for the first time that day.

Eventually Hinata pulls Kozume away for a game of beer pong. _CEO of Bouncing Ball Corp., we need you to bounce balls into cups!_

Kei’s glass is getting low, and he can feel a faint buzz, but not much beyond that.

But clearly it’s stronger than he’s aware of, because Tadashi slides to his side and Kei barely bats an eye. Even in a busy house and above roaring laughter and bass-heavy music, he has ears only for Tadashi.

“Did you know that Daichi and Suga put in an offer on a house?” Tadashi says, softly. He clutches at the kitchen counter. He’s swaying. He’s drank too much again, Kei thinks.

He’s not done. “They want a place with a yard. For kids, and maybe a dog. Can you believe that?” Tadashi shakes his head, looking up at Kei, and there are fresh tears in the corners of his eyes but he’s smiling. “I just… wow. They’re really… they’re really settling down.”

Kei says nothing. Why can’t he say anything?

 _What is there to say_ , he answers bitterly to himself. _That wouldn’t just make things worse._

Nishinoya is telling a story around the dining table to an enraptured audience about being caught fishing illegally off-shore in Barcelona. _But I made some paella for the ellas, and you know what, they let me go!_

 _Only after I posted bail,_ Asahi grins. Noya’s arm is around his waist. Kei follows the thin line of it.

Kei wants to slip his arm around Tadashi. When Tadashi was feeling anxious and overwhelmed, social situations feeling like too much, Kei would hold him. Tadashi used to let him. He would lean into him and tuck his head into Kei’s neck. The two of them would quietly shrink to the back of every college party or birthday dinner, a special kind of reassurance in the way their eyes would meet and Kei would offer, so silently, to Irish Goodbye the event if he asked. _You’re my corner,_ Tadashi had said, once.

But that was a long time ago, when Tadashi still needed that kind of reassurance, and now Kei is certain that he doesn’t anymore.

He thinks of the work dinners that he’d made Tadashi show up to, alone, when he was feeling exhausted and couldn’t muster up the energy to accompany his boyfriend of six years. The glimpses of the look that Tadashi would get in his eyes when he crawled into their bed afterwards and turned to face the wall.

Maybe he never needed it. Maybe it was Kei, all along, that needed him.

 _“New Years Countdown, let’s gooooo!”_ Tanaka screams from the living room. People begin to crowd around the flat-screen where the countdown timer is displayed.

Yachi and a tall, dark-haired woman are already going at it on the kitchen island. That’s one way to make sure you don’t miss the moment, Kei thinks, if you’re just necking through it.

He feels fingers at his side, tugging. Tadashi looks desperately at him, something soft and open in his expression.

_“Here it comes!”_

Kei pulls him out of the kitchen, through the sliding glass doors, onto the back porch.

 _“10!”_ comes the synchronized chants.

_“9!”_

“I don’t want to kiss anybody else at this party,” Kei says.

_“8!”_

_“7!”_

_“6!”_

Tadashi says, quietly, “I don’t, either.”

_“5!”_

_“4!”_

“It’s considered bad luck if you _don’t_ have a new years kiss,” Kei says, and thinks immediately that he’s maybe misinterpreted that superstition. Or that he’s misread the situation.

_“3!”_

_“2!”_

_“1!”_

Tadashi pulls him down for a searing kiss. It tastes spicy, like Fireball. It tastes minty and sweet, like peppermint schnapps and hot chocolate. It tastes like coming home, like Tadashi.

The bell on TV _ring, ring, rings_ in the new year. Somebody sets off fireworks at the front of the house. It’s probably Bokuto, judging by the frantic yelling.

Kei parts his lips and licks at Tadashi’s mouth and —

Too soon, Tadashi is pulling away, pushing at his chest. Kei staggers back and hits the siding.

“Fuck,” he sounds so breathless; delirious. His shoulders are shaking. Kei wants to reach for him and soothe them. “We’re supposed to be — we broke up. We can’t — we can’t do this anymore, I —”

A fresh round of cheers comes from inside the house.

“Okay,” Kei says, voice a hoarse whisper.

“Okay,” Tadashi says, even quieter.

“Okay!” Oikawa says, bursting through the sliding glass door. “Roll bars, _let’s goooooo!”_

Tadashi startles and presses his back flush against Kei’s chest.

“ _Shittykawa!”_ yells a voice from inside, “That’s the back door, idiot!”

“Oh. Oops,” Oikawa giggles. Tadashi untangles himself from Kei and paces two steps away from both of them. “Sorry to interrupt!”

Iwaizumi pops up like a pissed-off poltergeist to drag him away by the ear. Inside there’s the telltale scramble of people grabbing for their coats and shoes, premusably to hit the town. Kei groans.

“Want to call it a night,” he mutters.

Tadashi nods. “I’ll… get my bag. And say bye to Hinata.”

* * *

☾☆

Somehow they make it to their hotel. Kei’s glad his buzz had faded hours ago. Tadashi insists he’s completely fine, too, but he glows when he’s drunk and turns into a bright red strawberry. It's extremely obvious. 

“Since you’re so sober and all, _you_ can deal with telling front desk we want to switch rooms,” Kei had said, irritably. He doesn’t want to be the one to do it, another painful reminder that they won’t be sharing a bed from now on.

“What do you mean we can’t have a room with two beds?” Tadashi argues at an unsympathetic concierge. Even drunk, his words are suprisingly coherent. “The ones with two singles cost _less_ than the one with a king, which _we have_!”

The Tadashi he remembers — that most of their friends remember — would have never shouted at someone that way. Even if it was a mistake on the establishment’s part, Tadashi would smile awkwardly and live with it.

Kei is proud, then, of how far he’s come, and he wants to kiss him so, so much.

“You have an open room, right there!” Tadashi’s leaning over the counter to jab at the man’s computer monitor. Kei stifles a snigger. “What if we cancel — and we can pay the, the fee — and then you can just put us that room, yeah? What do you _mean_ , there’s _another_ fee for—”

They finally, _finally_ , stumble into their room with two twin beds at half-past midnight. Tadashi had managed to get the second rebooking fee waived, and Kei had paid for the late cancellation fee on account of being far too sober and being able to fish his wallet out quicker.

“Good night,” Kei says. He takes off his glasses and puts them on the nightstand, then turns off the lights.

It ends up not even mattering, then, that Tadashi had worked so hard to get them separate beds, because Kei’s barely been able to drift into unconsciousness when he feels the covers lift and two arms slide around him.

“ _Tsukki,”_ he hears the voice pressed into his shoulder blades. Tadashi mumbles something else, unintelligble.

“Tadashi,” Kei breathes.

“Don’t wanna…” Tadashi’s lips moving against the fabric of his shirt is distracting. Kei feels too awake in the darkened room. “… two nights, without Tsukki…”

“Tadashi,” he tries again, “The bed’s too small.”

“Don’t wanna… give up on you,”

“You’re drunk,” Kei’s complaints come out more and more half-heartedly.

“I’m not,” he can feel Tadashi pouting, “and — and… still love you.”

He can’t say it back, so he says nothing.

Tadashi is quiet after that, and Kei follows, drifting into a silent, starless night with the sound of his low, steady snoring.

* * *

☾☆

Kei wakes up first the next morning. He’s tired and he’s barely slept a wink, but he knows when Tadashi wakes up he’s going to have a head-splitting hangover so he forces his eyes open. Tadashi is still tangled around him.

He extricates his legs and replaces them gently with more of the blanket. Kei sighs. Tadashi’s head lolls against the pillows and he angles it so his neck won’t hurt when he eventually wakes. It’s been a while since he’s seen Tadashi like this. He’s been spending so many nights at the office. He’s busy with work, Kei knows.

He’d been mad about it, then. Thought Tadashi was so, so selfish for trading their quality time together for meaningless corporate accomplishments. Trying to climb a ladder that didn’t really matter. But it’s no secret that the extra income from working overtime had afforded them a nicer apartment in a better part of the city, had bought them a nice, if second-hand car when Kei’s had finally broken down.

Kei thinks he had it all wrong. He’s missed all the signs and taken an exit instead of staying straight.

Tadashi had never been the selfish one, of them. He’d always wanted to share all of his successes with Kei. He wasn’t working hard for himself — it was for them; their future, together.

He closes their hotel room door quietly behind him.

* * *

☾☆

When Kei comes back with pork buns, Tadashi is already awake. He shakes the bag. “Breakfast.”

Tadashi looks up from the bed. With horror, Kei realizes his eyes are red-rimmed again, fresh like the day when they’d fought. Kei swallows.

“Thanks,” Tadashi whispers.

The drive back is just as quiet. Tadashi keeps his sunglasses on — for the hangover, he says — but Kei catches him sniffling when he glances away to check the road signs. Every so often, he scrolls through his phone, showing Kei pictures from last night. Sugawara with his legendary cocktails; Bokuto upside-down, lips around a puncture in a beer can; Kageyama and Iwaizumi arm wrestling at a bar, neon lights behind them.

Eventually, he puts on some bluegrass, quiet and soothing. Tadashi’s so tired, then, that he only teases Kei for it a little and drifts off without complaint.

Kei’s a logical person, and he tries to imagine the future ahead, so that when it comes to pass it won’t be as painful. They’ll drive home, to their shared apartment. The lease is in Kei’s name, so maybe Tadashi will pack up and move out. They’ll argue about which furniture to keep but Tadashi will give in and give him most of it. He’ll get an apartment closer to his office. He’ll probably still help Kei pay his half of the rent until their term is up. Then the checks will stop coming and with it, any excuse for communication. Tadashi will move on, and Kei will stay the same. Tadashi will find someone else, and Kei will be alone.

His fingers curl, white knuckled, around the steering wheel.

Tadashi doesn’t wake up until they get off the freeway. The change in tempo as they slow down and re-enter the city limits has his eyes blearily opening.

They drive down a familiar road. Kei’s shoulders tense when he realizes. He doesn’t drive on it often, but he remembers it well, of Tadashi’s mother driving them both to Karasuno down this road, turn right at the next intersection.

“Karasuno is down there,” he says, softly.

The light turns green, and Kei drives past the intersection.

Tadashi glances at him. “I haven’t been back in a while.”

He knows. “Neither have I.”

“The kids should be on winter break, now. Plus it’s a Saturday.”

Kei turns the car around.

* * *

☾☆

Karasuno is much like he remembers it. The old outdoor staircase that leads up to the second floor of classrooms is growing cracks in the walls. Grass, still frozen, peeks out in between the pavement stones. They step through the courtyard and a familiar squirrel — or perhaps its grandson — shoots across their path and up an elm tree.

They walk quietly, and Kei’s afraid that if he were to break the silence they’d walk right back and get into the car and drive back home to the rest of their lives. He takes the liminal moment fully as it comes.

They walk past and see:

The Sakura tree under which Tadashi had confessed and pushed strawberry chocolates into his arms and they’d had their first kiss;

The bleachers where they’d steal kisses after volleyball practice, after everybody had already left the gym and gone home but they’d hidden behind the stands anyway;

Their first-year classroom, where they used to pass notes all the time, and after Tadashi had confessed and realized he was allowed to say all these hopeless sweet things, he’d write such sappy ones and watch Kei flush in the middle of class;

Kei thinks about all of his feelings then and all of his feelings now.

“Tadashi?” he says, finally finding his voice. They’ve come full circle around their old high school and are at the entrance. _Karasuno High_ , the sign says. Their Toyota Prius beeps in the parking lot. He feels sixteen and in love for the first time. He feels twenty-five and in love still.

“Yeah, Tsukki?”

“I don’t want to break up.” Kei admits, quietly. He has to say it now or he won’t ever say it, and even now he’s a coward, turned away from the love of his life because he’s so afraid of how his heart will break if Tadashi doesn’t agree.

Tadashi’s laughing. Kei hears it before he sees it — quiet, hiccuping laughter, that bubbles up in his throat and overflows. The kind of laughter that would make anybody that heard it fall a little bit more in love.

“Oh, good.” He giggles, and Kei’s smiling too without knowing why. “Because neither do I, you big dummy.”

And then Kei’s pulling him into his arms again and this time their kiss is happy and sweet and soft. It feels like home; it feels like renewal; it feels like spring. And this time Tadashi doesn’t pull away, not that Kei would let him, and he holds him tighter around the neck and presses kisses to his lips like he’s dying for it.

“I kept thinking about what my life would look like without you,” Tadashi whispers, falling into his old habit of saying exactly what Kei’s thinking without even trying. “And I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t imagine it. There’s no me without you.”

With every statement, he punctuates his words with fluttering kisses to Kei’s temple, thumbing at his brow, clutching at his jaw.

Kei laughs. He can’t do anything but laugh.

Here ends the first try. But here comes another, and another, and another.

**Author's Note:**

> \+ im on twitter @halloaloe! 
> 
> as always, comments are dearly appreciated! constructive feedback about characterization, pacing, etc. is also welcomed. thank you so, so much for reading!


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